


The Mark You Missed

by rippergiles



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-18
Updated: 2020-07-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25359232
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rippergiles/pseuds/rippergiles
Summary: Rupert Giles is reluctantly investigating a mysterious death with potential supernatural origins. When the case leads him to a face from his past, will that make things easier or more difficult?
Relationships: Rupert Giles & Ethan Rayne
Comments: 18
Kudos: 13
Collections: Buffyverse Top 5, Summer of Giles





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Summer of Giles 2020.
> 
> Thanks to [Charlia](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Charlia/pseuds/Charlia) for Brit-picking this for me. This story is otherwise unbeta-d so if you see any issues feel free to let me know :)

Rupert looked at himself, trying not to cringe at what he could only view as a mockery of his former youthful self. The hoop in his ear, the leather jacket, the torn jeans. This was the band candy all over again, but worse— he was in control of this, and didn’t have the added bonus of his inhibitions being removed.  
  
“Are we even sure this is a case for us?” he asked. “Seems the police might be better equipped.”

“It looks fishy, Giles,” Buffy said. “Or werewolfy. Or demony. I think it’s our kind of job.”  She was giving him those pleading eyes, ones he’d never been able to say no to.

“Fine. But I’m going to be grumpy about it.”  
  
“I know it’s weird. Believe me, I don’t love seeing you like this either. But now that Spike is...gone, someone has to do these kinds of things. They don’t trust anyone in a uniform. Or anyone like us.”

He knew she was right. Every supernatural entity and morally questionable human gave the Slayers a wide berth, even the new ones. Xander would stick out like a sore thumb and be largely defenseless if something went wrong. Willow...well, they were all still worried about sending Willow into potential dens of dark magic, considering everything. It had to be him.  
  
“So where is it I’m going?”   
  


* * *

  
  
He took a glance around the dark alley before pushing open the door to the dingy shop. Buffy had given him very specific directions, or else he would have passed right by the entrance. As soon as he was inside, a prickling sensation appeared on his skin that always suggested the remnants of magic.  It reminded him a bit of The Magic Box, but darker, less welcoming. Items were laid out on shelves without labels or prices, as if anyone seeking them out would know their purpose and be willing to pay. A few of the items looked vaguely familiar, but the majority were unknown to him, which made him uneasy.  
  
A tall woman, her golden skin wrapped in an assortment of shimmering shawls, emerged from a back room behind the counter. “Hello. Can I help you?”  
  
He couldn’t place her accent. His extensive knowledge of languages made that in itself another tick in the “eerie” column. She wasn’t a Londoner, certainly. Something in her demeanour made Rupert shift uneasily in his jacket, hoping he looked more competent than he felt.  
  
“Good evening. I’m looking for a Mr. Edgar Hale, I was told I could find him here.”  
  
She pursed her lips, her eyes surveying him. “Mr. Hale is a busy man. What does this concern?”  
  
He stood up straighter. “Two nights ago, a man’s body was found nearby under what you might call unusual circumstances. No wallet, no identification. The only thing on his person was a slip of paper in his pocket with Mr. Hale’s name and the address of this shop.”  
  
She came around the counter, dropping her voice as she drew closer. “I don’t want any trouble.”  
  
Rupert narrowed his eyes. “Who says I’m trouble?”  
  
Her eyes glanced uneasily at the doorway she’d emerged from. Rupert moved around her and approached it, ignoring her protests as he drew a red curtain back and peered into the back room.  
  
A man had his back to Rupert, seated in an ornate high-backed armchair at a large desk with an assortment of odd objects on it, some of which were certainly historical artifacts that Rupert suspected were very misplaced. An elbow rested on the chair’s edge, a slender arm leading to folded hands.  
  
Rupert cleared his throat. “Mr. Hale, I presume?”  
  
The man turned, and his recognisable profile turned Rupert’s apprehension into a maelstrom of confusion and fury. Ethan Rayne stood quickly from his chair and held his hands in front of his chest, but no use: Rupert crossed the room and slammed him against the nearest wall before he could react further, holding his arm across Ethan’s collarbone.  
  
“How are you here?” Rupert asked him from between clenched teeth.  
  
Despite the circumstances, Ethan gave him a wry smile. “Why, some years ago Mr. and Mrs. Rayne were feeling frisky…”  
  
Rupert slammed his other fist into the wall, centimeters from Ethan’s head. “The Initiative facility. How did you escape?”  
  
“Those monkeys in camouflage? How little you think of me.”  
  
“I’m sorry, sir, he just barged in!” The woman from the front of the shop had joined them, looking very put-out. “Shall I call someone to remove him?”  
  
“That won’t be necessary, Siobhan,” Ethan called back to her, not breaking eye contact with Rupert. “Despite his manners, Ripper is an old friend. Be a dear, mind the front for a few minutes while we catch up with each other.”  
  
She did as he asked, leaving them alone again.  
  
“Do let me go, Ripper. We can chat like civilised people, can’t we?”  
  
Their faces inches apart, he stared into Ethan’s eyes, trying to detect the double-cross that was undoubtedly being planned behind them. Rupert slowly lowered his arms and backed away, letting Ethan smooth out his silk shirt and move back toward his desk, where he reclaimed his seat and gestured for Rupert to take the one opposite.  
  
Ethan folded his hands and rested his chin on them. “Now then. What’s this about?”  
  
“A man is dead.”  
  
He sighed dramatically. “Yes, I had heard something about that. Dreadful business. Heart ripped out and all.”

“This address was in his pocket.” Rupert glared at the other man. “What did you do?”  
  
“Me?” Ethan asked incredulously. “I haven’t done anything. I’ve been a very good lad. Kept my head down. Wouldn’t want you or your ilk turning up on my doorstep. Though apparently that happens anyway.”  
  
“This place has known plenty of magic, Ethan. I can feel it. And you know better than I the power a human heart can hold for dark rituals.”  
  
“I’ve stayed out of your way, you can’t begrudge me using magic to make a living. Magic is all I know.”  
  
“That was your choice,” Rupert told him. “I got out, you could have too.”  
  
“You got out nearly thirty years ago,” Ethan sneered. “And I know you’ve dabbled since then.”  
  
“When it was necessary.”  
  
Ethan raised his eyebrows. “Though by your outfit, you haven’t exactly abandoned the Ripper I knew and loved, have you?”  
  
Rupert’s face grew warm, and his embarrassment over that only made it worse. “This wasn’t exactly my idea, but it’s irrelevant. Your pseudonym and address are the only leads I have on this case.”  
  
Ethan folded his arms and contemplated him. “So you’re saying you need my help.”  
  
Rupert closed his eyes and tried to keep his irritation in check. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly through his nostrils.  
  
“I suppose I am.”  
  
Ethan’s face shifted into a satisfied grin. “Excellent.”

In Rupert’s experience, that kind of look meant very little good.  
  
“His name was Daniel, or at least that’s the name he gave me,” Ethan said, leaning back in his chair. “Posh bloke. He’d left my shop not long before he was killed, I’d wager.” He poured himself a scotch from a bottle on his desk. “But what I don’t understand is why your people found the shop address on his person but not what he’d purchased.”

Rupert’s brow furrowed. “What should we have found?”  
  
“Yesterday, our dear Daniel came into the shop, looking far too much like a rabbit on the run from a fox. He was asking for protection.”

“Protection from what?” 

Ethan looked away. “Afraid I don’t know, mate.”

“I’m not your mate,” Rupert snapped, as Ethan rolled his eyes. “You gave him something for protection, but you don’t know what he needed protecting from?”

“He wasn’t exactly forthcoming,” Ethan drawled, then took a sip of his drink. “The man sounded out of his head, talking about being hunted… I thought he was just a paranoid idiot, so I gave him a generic talisman and sent him on his way.”

“And then he was killed.”

“So I was wrong.” Ethan shrugged. “I have no issue admitting it— I was never the one with an obsession for accuracy.”

Rupert sighed. “Let’s go over what we know. Mr. Buckingham was found in an alley near your shop, without the talisman—”

Just then, his mobile began to buzz in his pocket. He saw Willow’s name on the display and flipped it open.  “Hello?”

“Hey, Giles, how’s it going?” 

He wasn’t exactly sure how to answer that. He glanced at Ethan, hesitant to tell the others what— _ who  _ he’d found, at least for now. “Erm, we—about the same here. Is there something new on your end?”  
  
“Yeah, we got an ID. Daniel Buckingham, mid 40s. One of the girls has an account at the bank where he works— well, worked— and recognised him.”

So Ethan had been right about the name, at least.  “Did the autopsy turn out anything of note?”

“Besides the missing heart?” Willow let out a nervous giggle that Rupert met with silence. “Okay, sorry, inappropriate. Our team was undressing the corpse and found some kind of mucus on what was left of his shirt collar.”

“Mucus?”

“Yeah. Once slimy, now crusty. You know, mucus. Not sure exactly what it’s from yet, so we’ll keep digging, but we thought we’d let you know in case it was helpful.”

“Thanks, Willow,” Rupert said. “I’ll keep in touch.”

“Oh! And one more thing we found out about the victim— he was married.”

He perked up. “Oh?”

“Wife’s name is Charlotte. Did some digging, and apparently she has a weekly spa day every Saturday. Tomorrow. I’ll text you the address, can you check it out?”

“Willow, her husband has just died, I hardly think she’ll be doing...whatever it is people do at spas.”

“I dunno, Giles. I have a hunch about her. Besides, she’s the only lead we have. Can you do it?”

He sighed. “Sure. I’ll call you after.”

“Mucus?” Ethan asked when Rupert hung up.

“Mm. But the only thing that makes me think of is a Fyarl demon.”

“You’re kidding.” Ethan grimaced, standing up and taking a step back as if Rupert would hit him for the mere mention of what happened the last time they’d crossed paths.

“Relax,” Rupert scoffed, though he had to admit the momentary fear in Ethan’s eyes brought a smirk he didn’t try terribly hard to hide. “I don’t think it is a Fyarl. Those things leave chaos in their wake, and nothing at the scene showed signs of damage, besides Daniel himself.”

Ethan slid back into his chair. “Chaos always was my style.”   



	2. Chapter 2

The next morning, Rupert found himself driving to the spa in Knightsbridge, as he assumed taking the tube and walking up would rather make him stand out among the wealthy clientele. He’d suited up in his best impression of a police inspector, all dark fabric and fake badges. He still preferred a tweed three-piece.

After circling the block multiple times to find a place to park, he realised the tube would have been the better option after all. He huffily pulled into the first empty place he could find and set off at a brisk pace toward the pristine white building. He was steps from the large shrubs on either side of the front door when a shape moved from behind one of them and Ethan was in front of him.

“Christ!” Rupert shouted as he stepped back, then lowered his voice. “What the hell are you doing here?”

“Same thing as you,” Ethan said with a shrug. “Investigating.”

“I didn’t tell you where I was going.”

“You need to work on your stealth, Ripper. You aren’t a terribly difficult person to follow.”

Rupert glared at him. “I swear, if you jeopardise this with one of your schemes—”

Ethan raised his hands in innocence. “I’m only here to help. Honest.” The smirk on his face left Rupert thinking otherwise, but they walked into the spa together.  
  
“Hello, can I help you?” asked the woman behind the counter, a twentysomething with a chic bob haircut that probably cost more than his Council stipend.  
  
Rupert flashed his badge. “DI Giles, here to follow up on a case we’re investigating. And this is—”

“His partner,” Ethan cut in, and Rupert had to hold in a sigh of frustration. “Sergeant Hale.”

The woman’s eyes went wide. “Sir, you must understand that this is a very exclusive establishment, and we take the trust of our clients very seriously.”

Rupert blinked, taken aback by her response. This was a spa, not a law firm. “We’re the police.”

“Be that as it may,” she continued, her composure only slightly ruffled, “We can’t allow you to just come in and harass our customers without a warrant.” Her patient voice got under Rupert’s skin. “If I could make a suggestion, though, it really seems like _you two_ could use a day of pampering and relaxation. If you can go off-duty, of course,” she finished with a wink.

Rupert sighed again, with a feeling it would be far from the last time. “One moment, please.”

He stepped back from the counter, dragging Ethan back outside. “Ethan—”

“I think you mean Sergeant Hale.”  
  
“I don’t know why you’re still using a fake name,” Rupert spat. “I know who you are.”  
  
Ethan raised his eyebrows. “You’re not the only one I’m interested in avoiding.”  
  
“ _Listen_. I’ll go in, go through the rigamarole, try to get information. I’ll call your shop if I need you.”

“I think not,” Ethan said with false indignancy. “We’re partners, after all, I should stay on this investigation with you.”  
  
Rupert lowered his voice to a hiss. “I’ve _got_ the information I need from you, there’s really no need for you to even be here.”  
  
“On your dime?” Ethan chuckled. “I have every reason to be here.”

* * *

  
  
Between Ethan’s unexpected presence, the girl at the front desk’s condescension, and the exorbitant cost of a spa day for two, Rupert was very much in need of some relaxation, though he doubted he would find it here. Ethan appeared from behind a curtain, shirtless and wrapped in a towel, then leaned against a locker when he realised Rupert was still putting his clothes away.

“Thought you were in a hurry,” Ethan said, examining his fingernails. 

Rupert ignored the comment, noticing a red, burnt-looking scar above the crook of Ethan’s elbow.

“You got rid of your mark.” It wasn’t a question. He couldn’t identify the feeling in his stomach as he reached for the tattoo on his own body in the same place. Loneliness, maybe. He was the last one who’d survived with Eyghon’s brand.

Ethan looked down at his arm and shrugged. “Sure. When Eyghon was after us. I notice you didn’t.”

Rupert shook his head. “No.” He clocked Ethan looking at the gash on his stomach. A few years had passed since getting impaled behind the wheel of a disaster-headed RV, but it still twinged from time to time. “Still have a few new scars, though.”  
  
“We’re all a bit worse for wear, old man.”

Rupert allowed himself a wistful smile at that. He looked at Ethan a moment longer, then tossed a robe to him from a hook on the wall. 

“They gave us these for a reason,” he said, pulling on his own. The soft material wasn’t comforting enough for him to ignore the prickling feeling that this was all a bad idea.

Ethan rolled his eyes, but put it on. “I remember when you weren’t the modest type.”  
  
  


* * *

  
  
Rupert found himself irritable at the mud on his face, the soft-spoken attendants, the aromatherapy surrounding them, all of it, but Ethan seemed absolutely delighted. Then again, Ethan had always revelled in everything. Rupert sighed; he was unsure when he himself had lost the ability. 

“Oh, lighten up, Ripper,” Ethan said as a young woman rubbed his temples from behind. “You paid for pampering, might as well enjoy it.”

“I _paid_ to find Ms. Buckingham.” He kept his voice low, though it seemed the woman was paying little attention to them, her brain probably clogged by the scent of artificial lavender. “Something we won’t accomplish if we’re stuck here looking like a secondary school slumber party.”

It was Ethan’s turn to sigh. “Very well. Darling, where else might we find pleasurable people in this establishment?”

The attendant didn’t speak, only gestured to a Japanese-style wooden door across the room. Rupert was already out of his seat and two steps toward it when Ethan pushed himself out of the chair and after him. 

“What is it you’re rushing toward?” he asked. “I’ve just seen you in a towel and I doubt you have much room to hide weaponry beneath it.”

“I’m not _hiding_ anything,” Rupert answered. “We’re just here for information.”

“Can never be too prepared with you around. The things you and those children got us into—” 

“ME?” Rupert had stopped short and turned on him, but Ethan was already laughing.

“You mustn’t be so easily wound, dear. Takes all the fun out of it.”  
  
The next room contained a large hot tub, occupied by a few men soaking and making stilted small-talk. Rupert didn’t know what kind of people they were, but he could guess. Executives or media types, maybe. He nodded at Ethan to join them; the chances weren’t great that they knew anything, but it was worth a chance if only to give Rupert a moment on his own. He walked around the round, bubbling tub, trying not to slip in the spa-provided foam sandals on his way to the door labeled SAUNA.

He opened it enough to peer inside, and the sauna’s sole occupant was a woman, maybe a bit younger than him, with wavy, honey-coloured hair that fell over her shoulders. A thin necklace chain fell from her neck and settled between her breasts, the bottom of it covered by her towel. He let out a small “oh” as her eyes opened, embarrassed to potentially be seen as lecherous but hoping he had finally found what he’d come here for.

“Hi,” she said, a warm smile spreading over her face.

“Hello,” he replied, his feet struggling to move forward. “Do you mind if I, er—”

“Not at all.” The woman extended a hand toward the wooden bench adjacent to her. Rupert shrugged out of his robe and hung it on one of the hooks outside the sauna door, making sure his towel was snug around his waist before he walked inside.

They sat for a minute in silence as he tried to relax, tried to enjoy the warmth emanating from the coals in the middle of the room, but his mind was racing and conscious of the fact that she could leave at any moment and this whole trip would be for nothing.

“Erm, pardon me, miss… I’m actually here looking for someone, a woman—”

“I wasn’t aware spas were part of the dating scene.”

Rupert struggled to get a reply out quickly enough. “No, no, so sorry, I meant a specific woman, er, Charlotte someone, potentially Buckingham?”

The woman let out a soft laugh. “I was only joking. But sorry, no, you just missed her, actually.”  
  
He felt the wind get knocked out of him. It would be one thing if she hadn’t been here at all, but to have missed her because he was getting neck massages and mud masks with _Ethan Rayne_...  
  
“But I see her here most weekends and we’ve become pretty friendly, maybe I can help?”

Rupert’s eyes widened. “Oh! Erm, well, it’s rather unpleasant business. Her husband was found dead a few days ago, and we’re investigating that and were hoping to speak with her.”

The woman glanced pointedly around the small sauna. “We?”

“Oh, my partner and I. He’s talking to some others out there.”

“And you didn’t go to her house like a real police officer would because…?”

He blinked. “Pardon?”

The woman smiled. “If you planned on pulling out a fake badge from under your towel, don’t let me stop you.” She put out her hand. “I’m Diana, by the way.”

He slowly lifted his own and shook it. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch. But thanks for confirming it.”

Rupert tried to hold back his sigh, but opened his mouth slightly and let it escape slowly through gritted teeth. “It would seem I’ve jumbled things a bit, but let me try again. You said I’ve just missed her. We’ll follow up with Charlotte, but since I’ve got you here, did she say anything about her husband?”

Diana shook her head. “Not at all. I had no idea he was dead, to be honest. She didn’t seem particularly bereft.”

“Okay. Do you remember if you saw her last weekend too, before he was killed?”

She nodded. “Yeah, she was here.”

“Did she say anything of interest, mention Daniel being sick or acting weird?”

Diana frowned. “No, I don’t think so. Nothing stands out.”

“Very well. I suppose I should get back to my partner, then.” 

She smiled. “Are you sure? You’re already here, might as well enjoy the steam. He’ll find you, right?”

Rupert let out a chuckle. “Yes, he always seems to.”

“Been working with him long?”

 _Oh, if she only knew._ He leaned back against the cedar paneling, slick with water droplets.

“Off and on, I suppose. We don’t always...play nice.”

“Why’s that?”

Rupert shook his head against the impulse to tell this beautiful stranger everything. “When you have a lot of history, things are bound to go wrong sometimes, I suppose. But that’s of little interest to you, I’m sure.”

Her eyes twinkled. “You underestimate me. I have a bottomless thirst for gossip, to be honest.”

Rupert laughed at the idea of a couple of old men like he and Ethan being worthy of gossip to someone like Diana, who he could easily envision in a properly scandalous life.

“We’ve known each other a long time, since we were young. But we got mixed up in a bad crowd, and were always pushing each other into worse and worse ideas.”

She nodded knowingly. “Drugs?”

“Among other things.”

Silence hung between them. Rupert was sure he had said too much. He couldn’t think of the last time he opened up to anyone, let alone about his past, without an absolute emergency necessitating it.

“So how did a young hooligan end up the respectable gentleman before me?”

He shook his head, but a breathy laugh escaped him. “I’m a failed police impersonator in a towel, what exactly makes you think I’m respectable?”

Diana shrugged. “Another hunch.”

He paused, choosing his words. “I just had to choose what kind of life I was going to live. One option was predictable, and one was exciting, but the exciting one got too dangerous, so I turned tail and ran.”

“But your partner?”  
  
“Oh, he relished the danger. Never backed away from it. That’s why I hadn’t seen him in so long.”

Diana brushed her hair behind her ear. “But you’re working together now?”

“Against my better judgment,” Rupert told her. “Things would be easier if I could forget that part of my life, but he seems to keep resurfacing.”

“Do you wish he wouldn’t?”

“Well, yes. But moving across an ocean twice didn’t change anything, so I suppose—”

Just then, the door to the sauna opened, sending swirls of steam flooding out the door. Ethan walked through the cloud.

“I was beginning to think you’d melted in here,” he said, before noticing Diana with a smirk. “Oh, I _see_.”

“This your partner?” Diana asked.

“Whatever he said, it’s absolutely true.” Ethan looked back to Rupert. “I’m done with the others, when you’re ready to leave. Unless you still wanted a pedicure…”

Rupert glared at him, then returned with a kinder gaze toward Diana. “Thank you so much for speaking with me, you’ve been a big help. Hopefully we’ll find Charlotte without having to come back here next weekend, though it’s good to have the option.”

“Anytime,” she said, tucking her legs under the bench. “You know where to find me.”  
  



	3. Chapter 3

They redressed and found their way outside. Rupert gave a little wave to Ethan then took off toward his car, but was quickly rejoined.

“Fancy a drink?” Ethan asked.  
  
They kept walking. “The last time we had drinks, I ended up a demon.”

“And I ended up in a prison with many demons, I think it’s safe to say I learned my lesson.”  
  
“I really need to get back, the children—”  
  
“Sorry to break it to you Rupert, but the children are adults,” Ethan said. “Surely they can live without you for a night.”  
  
“Maybe, but—” They turned the corner onto the side street he’d parked on, now empty of cars. “Fucking hell, have I been towed?”  
  
“Seems that way,” Ethan said, plucking a ticket off of the NO PARKING sign Rupert could have sworn was planted there in the last few hours. He snatched the ticket from Ethan and dialed the number on it, only to be met with a voicemail message that informed him the towing company was closed for the day.  
  
“ _Damn_.”  
  
“That’s rotten luck.” Ethan shook his head. “What are the odds the one tow yard in London that isn’t 24 hours is the one that took your car?”

Rupert went back to the intersection, looking around for signs of the nearest tube station.

“Never a better time for that drink,” Ethan said, sidling up next to him. “I’ll buy. Nowhere posh though, let’s get back to a neighbourhood with a little character.”  
  


* * *

  
Ethan slid onto a stool at the bar after placing his order. “So Ripper, we haven’t really caught up in between you threatening me and you trying to ditch me like a bad date.”

“You  _ are _ a bad date,” Rupert said, nodding a thanks to the bartender as she brought them both scotch in lowball glasses. Ethan downed the dark liquid in one gulp before replying.

“That hurts, you know.” He pouted, mock affronted. “I’ve been a perfect gentleman, no hoodwinks.”

“And why is that? I’ve never known you to do anything without something in it for you.”  
  
Ethan waved at the bartender for another round. “Laying low didn’t exactly work, so call it an apology tour.”  
  
Rupert laughed. “You’ve never apologised for anything in your life.”

“And I don’t intend to start. But Ripper, we’re getting to be old men now, and even sons of chaos need a break, I suppose.”

“So what, you’re ‘going straight’?” Rupert asked.

Ethan snorted into his glass. “Oh, don’t insult me. You should know better than most.”

He felt his cheeks grow warm, and took a large drink before answering. “You know what I meant.”  
  
“I do, but it’s still very fun to make you uncomfortable. Let me keep that at least, even if I’m taking a break from making trouble for trouble’s sake.”  
  
Maybe it was the alcohol entering his bloodstream, but Rupert actually smiled at that. He knew he would never have the casual camaraderie with Ethan they once had, but being decades older than everyone in your social circle got lonely sometimes. For tonight, maybe he could put away his misgivings and enjoy himself.  
  
“So what brought you back to London?” Ethan asked after a few moments of silence.  
  
“Mm. I can’t imagine you missed the Watchers Council being blown up? For all their secrecy, a massive explosion and loss of life in central London is hard to cover up.”

“I heard about it, yeah. One of yours responsible?”

Rupert frowned, shaking his head. “No. I had no love for them, but we wouldn’t have done that. It was the work of an adversary.”

“Plenty of those to go around.”

“Present company included.”

“Too right,” Ethan agreed, knocking his knee playfully into Rupert’s as he took another sip. 

“Well, we— the Slayers, and whoever remained of the Council, came back to rebuild it. Make it better.”  
  
“So you’re surrounded by teenage girls all hours of the day? And you _hesitated_ about going to a pub? Good lord.”

“They’re not so bad.” Rupert smiled. “Some spats and growing pains, but that’s to be expected. A lot is put on their shoulders, for being so young.”

“How’s Buffy?”

“Headstrong as ever, but at least she’s not alone now. Training the new girls has really revitalised her, I think.”

Ethan licked his lips, hesitating. “And how are you?”  
  
Rupert wasn’t sure the last time someone had asked him that. He looked sideways at Ethan. “Fine, I suppose.”

“Forthcoming as ever.”

Silence fell again. Rupert stared into his glass.

“Can I ask you something?”

Ethan shrugged. “I have a feeling you’re going to.”

“How did you escape the Initiative facility?”

“You asked me that already, Ripper.”

“I’m asking again,” Rupert replied. “Not out of anger this time, though when I asked you yesterday I suppose it wasn’t really that, either.”

“What do you mean?” Ethan seemed genuinely curious.  
  
“I’ve thought of you from time to time.” His voice was quiet now, and he felt like he was in a very odd confessional with an even stranger priest. He looked around the pub, but no one seemed to be paying attention to them. “I felt not just relieved, but joyful...vindictive, as they took you away in that police car. But ever since, I always wondered if you were still there. If you deserved what they were doing to you.”  
  
“Deserved? Hard to say." Ethan shook his head before continuing. "But my daring escape was perhaps a bit less cunning than I would like you to believe.”

Rupert looked over, inviting him to say more but not pushing.  
  
“I was in there for months. I lost track, exactly. Sometimes I wouldn’t see anyone for days, sometimes they’d pull me out of my cell and stick needles and wires in me all day, trying to rip out whatever sorcery they could.”

“God...” Rupert's insides were twisting.

“Yeah, well,” Ethan drained the last of his scotch and waved the bartender down for a third. “That went on for a while, one meal a day, occasional pokes and prods, but then one day the meal didn’t come. I never saw the soldiers again. I guess they just picked up and left, I never found out why. I thought I was going to starve to death in my cell. But one day the lights went out, and the electronic doors opened.”

“What?” Rupert nearly gasped. “So you just walked out?”

“Oh, hardly. All the cell doors opened, not just mine. Every manner of demon and monster and unsavoury human they’d collected in there were emerging, all at once, in the dark. I think I found the exit and got out alive by sheer dumb luck.”

“I’m...I’m so sorry,” he said. “Riley’s guys, I thought they were all right. I didn’t know it would be like that. They were just getting you out of my hair.”

“Trusting government ops, Ripper? You  _ have _ changed.”

Rupert took another drink. “I suppose I have.”

“Anyway. Now you know why I’ve been staying under the radar. Once you see people like that in action, you start to see them everywhere.”

“Then why have you been following me on this case? Surely that’s not staying under the radar.”

“Ah, old friend.” Ethan put his hand on Giles’ shoulder. “Conning our way everywhere together? It’s almost like the good old days. I couldn’t resist.”

* * *

The night wore on, reminiscing and catching up as empty glasses and bottles were exchanged for full ones, until the bartender told them they were closing.

“The time really got away from me,” Rupert said, pulling on his jacket. His tie had been loosened hours ago. “I’ve really got to get back—”

As he stepped off the stool, he wavered and had to grasp the bar to right himself.

“How many drinks have you had?” Ethan asked.

“Too many, clearly.”

“Come on,” he said, guiding Rupert by the arm. “I’ve got a loft over the shop, it’s just a few blocks away.”

Rupert looked at him uneasily. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Buffy and Willow—”

“What’s not a good idea is to talk to them in the middle of the night in your state. You can check in in the morning.”

He let Ethan walk him out of the bar and onto the street, then shrugged his hand off. “I still don’t trust you, you know.”

“That’s the way I like it. But do you trust me or your ability to get home without being mugged more?”

He considered for a moment. “Fair enough.”

Ethan beckoned him forward as a nearby streetlamp cast a glowing halo around the back of his head. Rupert let out another laugh and followed his old friend.

  
  



	4. Chapter 4

  
Rupert paced at the head of the drive, checking his phone again. The text and call to the new contact, labeled only “E”, had gone unanswered. On his drive out of the city he had realised giving Ethan the address was probably a mistake, but like it or not, it seemed he was part of this case now. He hadn’t met Rupert at the estate entrance like they’d planned, but knowing Ethan he was probably already inside having tea with Charlotte, while Rupert foolishly waited outside. He set off down the winding drive, the trees dense enough around it that light began to fade as he progressed, even at midday.  
  
He’d convened with Buffy and Willow that morning, hoping he was hiding his hangover, and told them what little he knew and where he’d planned to go. He still didn’t mention who he was working with, certainly not brought up whose loft he’d just shuffled out of. A shame gnawed quietly in his stomach as he thought of how much he’d told Diana, a stranger, while still unwilling to confide in the two young women that were the closest thing he had to family.

When he arrived at the mansion’s front door, there was a long pause after knocking that made him wonder if anyone was home despite the sports car parked out front. Just as he was starting to walk away, the door opened, revealing a tall woman in a fitted white trouser suit, with dark hair and eyes that were looking at him suspiciously.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

He flashed his badge. “Hello, I’m DI Giles. Are you Ms. Buckingham?”

“Yes, but I already spoke with the police.”

“Ah, yes,” he said, trying to be as non-threatening as possible. “I’m actually with one of our special forces units and was hoping to speak with you myself. May I come in?”

Charlotte hesitated but stepped aside. He stepped into a pristine foyer, covered in white marble flooring and modern furniture.

“Thank you. I’m very sorry about the loss of your husband, ma’am.”  
  
“Thank you,” she echoed, her face slipping into one of sorrow, though no tears came.  
  
“We’re working on his case and were hoping just to get any info we could from you about that night. There weren’t many clues at the scene, so we’re really just trying to figure out what he was doing in that part of London and work our way back from there.”

“I wish I knew,” Charlotte said, her voice shaky. “I was working late that night and had just left work when the police called me.”

“Had he been acting unusual in the days leading up to his death?” Rupert asked. “Say anything strange?”

“Not that I noticed.” She drew her arms around herself as if experiencing a chill. “But, to be honest with you, we didn’t see a ton of each other on a good day. Daniel really...threw himself into his work.”

“I see.” Rupert gave her a kind smile. “Can you think of anyone who would have reason to harm him? Maybe a colleague?”

Charlotte’s gaze hardened. “I already went through all this, can’t you just get the file from—”

“I’m terribly sorry,” he interrupted. “I know this is very difficult. But if you could just answer the question and I’ll leave you be, I promise.”

“His secretary,” she spat, then flinched as if it hurt her to say it. “He was having an affair with his secretary. So fucking cliché.” 

Rupert’s instinct was to reach out, comfort her, but he held back, unsure if it would be welcome. “I’m sorry.”  
  
“Yes, well,” she said, regaining composure. “He tried to end it. She didn’t take it well. You all should be talking to _her_.”

“We will.”  
  
  


* * *

Even the dark wood, shadows even longer now in the late afternoon, was a welcome respite as he closed the door behind him. Rupert let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. He’d dealt with the discomfort of a grieving stranger’s emotions and even Ethan might have been a welcome distraction, had he shown up. He opened his mobile and pulled up Ethan’s number again, pausing before hitting the dial button. What had happened over the last few days that made Rupert think it was ever a good idea to have him around? It had been three decades since Ethan had been anything but a persistent thorn in his side, and even back then their relationship had been largely one of convenience, shared power, and bad decisions.  
  
With Jenny, with Olivia, with his few attempts at a life outside of being a Watcher, Rupert always felt he didn’t deserve them, that they were too good, too pure for his history. Ethan was different. They’d victimised people together, and those memories stay—every time he looked at Ethan, he was reminded of who was no longer alive because of what they’d done. Even considering every bit of trouble Ethan had dragged them all into in Sunnydale, the earlier memories were the real reason it was still hard to be around him. But it seemed a softer pain now, a mild grimace instead of the bubbling hot shame he felt before.  
  
He pressed the dial key and let it ring, unsure if he wanted an answer or not. It would be easier, certainly, to finish this case and go back to life as usual, but now that they both knew the other was in London, Rupert thought he would almost certainly run into Ethan whether he wanted to or not. A third ring, a fourth, no answer. He was about to hang up when he heard a faint tone play from somewhere among the trees to his left, then stop. He heard Ethan’s voice on the line as his voicemail picked up, a bored drawl giving no information, no promises of returning your call. Rupert hung up then re-dialed, holding the phone away from his ear and listening harder to the forest around him. The tone rang out again and he took a few steps off the path to try to get closer. The trees were dense but not unnavigable, despite the unpleasantly wet earth splashing up around his shoes. A third call attempt led him to a swampy clearing where a silver mobile was half sunken into the mud, ringing without its owner. The hairs prickled on the back of his neck as he realised something was very wrong. 

He’d just picked the phone up and wiped it off, stowing it in his pocket, when a strangled cry rang out across the clearing. He looked up and saw a hooded figure dragging another— Ethan— back into the woods. He took off after them, his feet sinking into thick mud and severely hindering his speed.

“Ethan!” he yelled, but the figures were no longer visible. He struggled after them, eventually making it to the tree line which allowed him to pull himself forward more easily than walk through the thick muck that seemed to have overtaken the ground. Another noise rang out, the rarely heard distress of Ethan Rayne. Rupert followed it, as quick as he could propel himself, finally coming upon a scene that made him freeze.

The hooded figure was standing on a fallen, decaying tree, propped up by a few small boulders that had somehow not surrendered to the gravity of their surroundings. In front of the figure was Ethan, already buried waist-deep in the ground and sinking further as he struggled to free himself. 

“Stop moving!” Rupert told him. “You’re making it worse.”

“Have you got a better plan?” Ethan snapped.

“What’s this?” the figure asked, a somewhat familiar feminine voice coming from under a hood. “You want to save him, _Rupert?_ But you asked for this.”  
  
“ _What?_ ” Rupert and Ethan shouted in unison.

“I didn’t— I don’t want—” Rupert continued, realising as he stumbled over his words that it was true. Whatever past he and Ethan had, whatever trouble he’d caused, Rupert didn’t want to see him die. Certainly not like this.

“Oh, but you did,” the figure crooned, dropping her hood. What lay beneath was barely recognisable as Diana, the woman from the spa. Her beauty that had so entranced him had fallen away, her skin now rough and slimy, her eyes full of malice. He realised now what she was. A vengeance demon. 

Another sickening wave of realisation washed over him. “You killed Daniel.”

Diana laughed, derisive. “If you want to be accurate, a Grimslaw demon killed Daniel. I get a lot of use out of those, very poetic to eat the hearts of heartbreakers.”  
  
“But why go after Ethan?”  
  
“Oh, that’s a bit of a story,” she said. “I lost my talisman months ago while working a gig. I’ve been trying to track it down ever since, living in a powerless human form. When Charlotte told me what Daniel had done to her, I knew it was an opportunity for vengeance, but I couldn’t get it done without the talisman. So imagine my surprise when I began to follow Daniel and he led me right to what I’d been searching for. Some hack was selling it as a cheap charm.”

He shot Ethan a look to stop him from interrupting. Now was not the time for smart-arse defensive remarks, but if anyone would make them while half sunk, it was Ethan.  
  
“And then to have the man who’d sold off the source of my power hand-delivered to me days after I got it back?” She closed her eyes, seeming to savour it all over again.  
  
Rupert’s mind was racing, trying to figure out how to get them both out of here alive. Maybe if he could keep her talking long enough.

“But… vengeance demons only do their work at the behest of others. I know one...knew one,” he corrected with a pang. “Always defending scorned women.”  
  
“Not _just_ scorned women,” Diana said, her sly tone doing little to hide the triumphant gleam in her eyes. “That’s a lot of who we help, of course, but we can help whoever has a vengeful wish.”  
  
“I didn’t—” he repeated, looking at Ethan, who was up to his armpits now in the sludge. Rupert took a few steps toward Diana. “Wait…”

“‘He seems to keep resurfacing’,” Diana quoted gleefully. “You wished he wouldn’t. I’m making sure of it.”

His stomach dropped.  
  
“You repressed, stodgy types are always the most fun to manipulate,” Diana crowed, leering down at them. “Getting you to spill your feelings is all the more delicious.”

“This isn’t what I meant!” he shouted at her, bending to grab Ethan’s hands. He pulled up, hard, but Ethan didn’t budge, and his mud-slicked hands slipped out of Rupert’s grasp. “Stop this!”

She only smiled in response, and Rupert felt his desperation mingle with fury. Out of options, he ran up to her and pulled her down from the tree trunk, catching her off guard only for a moment before she held him at arm’s length, her fingers digging into his throat and lifting him. The tussle was just enough to shake loose a pendant from beneath her robes, a large orange stone set in the center. Rupert clawed at it and yanked until the chain broke off, leaving the pendant clasped tightly in his hand.

“No!” Diana screamed, a guttural, primal noise. Her grip on his throat loosened enough for him to break free, falling to the ground and hitting his head on one of the boulders under the trunk. He scrambled up, dazed and seeing double, feeling for the hard stone under his palms. He brought the pendant down as hard as he could on the boulder and felt the stone crack under the force. Diana screamed again, clawing at his back, but it was too late. He shoved her away and crawled back to Ethan, whose forehead could only just be seen above the ground.  
  
He lurched forward, grasping for Ethan’s hand deep in the pit, the slimy mud coating their fingers making it difficult to get a grip. Finally, Rupert hooked his elbows under Ethan’s arms and hoisted him out of the muck with all his strength. When Ethan’s lithe frame was freed, they overbalanced and fell together on the muddy but mercifully solid ground, nose-to-nose.

Ethan collapsed on Rupert’s chest, still gasping for breath. Rupert gripped his shoulder gently.

“Ethan, you’re on me.”

“I’m flattered, Ripper,” he murmured, not looking up. “But I’m a little tired just now.”

Rupert sighed and let his head fall back on the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Diana, nearly forgotten, trying to pick the shattered fragments of her pendant out of the mud. He pushed Ethan to the side and got up, walking back over to her.

“Afraid not,” he told her, picking up a few of the pieces. “That’s more than glue can fix.”

He hoisted her up and returned to Ethan, who was standing now and grimacing at the state of his clothes.

“I _liked_ this shirt.”

“I’ll buy you a new one,” Rupert said. “Come on, I need your help.”


	5. Epilogue

The three of them walked into the new headquarters to much chatter among the new Slayers. Rupert and Ethan certainly looked out of place, still covered in mud and holding Diana between them. A streak of red hair emerged from the group.

“Giles?” Willow said incredulously. “What happ—” She caught sight of Ethan. “ _You?!_ ”

“I ran into Ethan while investigating this case,” Rupert interjected quickly, for Willow looked in danger of striking him. “He helped.”

She looked uncertain. “He helped?”

“Well, I provided information, at least,” Ethan said. “And did our Rupert the kindness of being kidnapped.”

Rupert rolled his eyes. “Yes, and that’s how we found Daniel’s killer.” He gestured at Diana. “Vengeance demon.”

“Like Anya?” Willow asked.

“A fair bit less agreeable than Anya, but yes.”

Just then, Buffy came into the entry hall and stopped short when she saw them.

“Giles, what happened?” Her face turned to one of disgust. “Why is _he_ here?”

Willow jumped in. “Giles says Ethan helped with the case. This lady’s a vengeance demon.”  
  
“Who cares who she is?” Buffy said, her voice rising. “Why did you bring him here?”

Rupert looked at her apologetically. “Buffy, I’m sorry, I should have—”

“He hurt you— hurt _me_!”  
  
“I know, Buffy.” He felt hot around the collar as the entire room stared at them. “That’s why I didn’t tell you all when I found him a few days ago. I didn’t know if it was safe to get you involved again.” He looked at Ethan, still coated in mud up to his cheekbones. “I don’t expect you to trust him. In fact, it’s probably better if we don’t. But he has a lot of connections in dark places and I think he can be an asset to us.”

“That’s an upgrade from ‘nuisance’,” Ethan pointed out.

Buffy walked forward, staring Ethan dead in the eyes from inches away. “You know if you try anything, I will beat you into the ground.”

“Of course,” Ethan said, bowing his head. “I’d be insulted by anything less.”

Buffy shifted her gaze back to Rupert. “Ignoring that for now. You have a delivery?”

Rupert dropped his grip on Diana. “Figure out if she’s still a threat. If not, let her go.”

Buffy and Willow nodded and guided Diana out of the entry hall. Willow gave a little wave and smile before they rounded the corner.

“Does that mean I’m free too?” Ethan asked. “I could really do with a shower.”

“As could I,” Rupert laughed. “Come on, I’ll walk you out.”

Ethan followed him back out the front door and onto the pavement. It was late now, so there were fewer people to gawk at their filthiness than there could have been. Rupert thanked the gods for small miracles.

“That went about as well as I could have hoped.”

“As long as I’m not in a cell again, I’m delighted.” Ethan replied.

“I really am sorry,” Rupert said again. “And thanks for the help.”

“Oh, with Diana?” Ethan’s smug smile returned. “As soon as she started monologuing I knew you’d get the better of her. Take it from me, that’s never a good idea.”

Rupert chuckled, then put out his hand. “Until the next bad idea, then.”

Ethan looked at it with surprise, then gripped it and shook. “Until then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading! I love these two characters so much and wanted to return to writing them after a while away. You will probably notice similarities between the end of this story and “The Wish”, but I find that episode, and particularly the scene between Giles and Anya so powerful that I thought the Giles of our universe should get the chance to do something similar. Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
